Dark Angel
by wildchild494
Summary: Re-uploaded. Alec is captured and tortured by White. It is only during Alec's very close brush with death that Max is hit by a startling realization...MA


Title: Dark Angel

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.  
Spoilers: Post Freak Nation. But the Runes, and the whole M/L dealio never happened.

Pairing: M/A

Genre: Action/Adventure

Summary: When Max almost loses Alec when he is captured and tortured by White...she is hit by a startling realization.

A/N: I reposted this because I wanted to refresh your memory before I post the sequel.

"Dark Angel"

The Art Gallery was located at downtown Seattle, and it was under the ownership of the wealthy Marcia Landon. The gallery was due to be opened to dealings the following day, and she therefore had all the paintings on display for the big event the next day, making it incredibly easy for a thief.

The Art Gallery was nothing more than two story building surrounded by thick concrete walls that stood up to only nine feet, add to that a foot of concertina wire, and that makes it exactly ten feet. Easy enough for a transgenic, who can jump to about twelve feet, to clear.

Alec landed gracefully on the other side of the walls, a satisfied smirk on his handsome face. Hoisting up the backpack that held the extremely valuable paintings, he crept across the street to the vacant apartment building where he stashed his motorcycle. He checked his watch; it read 10:48 p.m. That gave him precisely twelve minutes to meet Max back at Terminal City. '_Twelve is enough,' _he thought with a grin, as he revved the engine of his bike. And he sped out into the night, not noticing several pairs of eyes following him.

The battle at Jam Pony, three weeks before had, as expected, reached international news. And more and more transgenics (mostly the X5s who had fled to other countries when Manticore burned down) kept arriving at TC, and they were rapidly experiencing a number of shortages. They were running out of food, water, medications, and some necessary equipment. The heist was awfully important if they all wanted to survive. Alec had immediately volunteered, wanting to have an excuse to get out of Terminal City, even for just a couple of hours. It was getting a tad bit too crowded for his liking.

'_These paintings will keep us alive for the next few days.' _Alec thought, swerving sharply to the right into a narrow alley caught between two buildings. The minute he did, his enhanced eyesight glimpsed a man ducking quickly behind the building's ledge. That could only mean one thing: Trouble. Alec accelerated his pace, taking cautious glances at the roof of the two buildings. Just as he neared the outlet of the alleyway, a dozen armed men leaped from the top of the building, landing loudly on the solid cement floor. They were all heavily built, wearing the same surly expressions. '_Familiars,'_ Alec observed, swearing under his breath. They had formed a barricade at the end of the alley, blocking his exit. He veered his bike in a complete u-turn, only to find himself staring face to face with none-other than Ames White. One of the familiars fired a shot. It hit his bike tire with a loud pop. Air whooshed out of it and his motorcycle screeched to a stop. '_No use fighting, they'll shoot me before I can even get out of this alley.' _Alec thought gloomily.

"Good evening, 494." White said, his breath coming out in puffs of smoke. The night was cold, almost to the point that it was freezing. It had rained earlier that day, and had consequently given the atmosphere a humid, moist sensation.

"Yeah, it was pretty good until you monkeys came around and ruined it." Alec said, glaring at him. "Or should I say gorillas?"

White ignored him. "You've escaped my grasp once, 494." He said, menacingly. "But this time, you won't be getting out alive."

"Are you threatening me?" Alec asked, cocking an eyebrow. "Because, I really don't do well with threats. The last person that threatened me – he ended up with a broken nose. Which, in your case, would do wonders for your appearance."

White laughed. A cold, mirthless laugh that sent chills down his spine. "You think you're so funny, 494. But look who's laughing now." And before Alec could even bite out a retort, White had pulled out a tranquilizer pistol.

And his whole world went black.

* * *

A moonless night had long since fallen, and the Command Center that stood in the heart of Terminal City was slowly emptying until there was no one left except its leader, and Eyes Only.

Midnight was nearing and Max was getting more worried than impatient. "Where the hell is he? He should've been here an hour ago." She paced the small area in front of the bank of computers where Logan was currently hard at work, hacking into the Art Gallery's surveillance system, searching for any sign of a certain transgenic male.

"Maybe, he got tired and went straight to his apartment." Logan suggested, briefly looking up from his laptop.

"I told him he'd go straight here, and drop off the paintings first." Max said with a frown. "He may be a little reckless at times, but he knows better than to go straight to his apartment lagging a number of stolen paintings behind him."

Logan began tapping a number of keys on his computer. "Well, he certainly isn't in the Art Gallery anymore." He said. "You don't suppose he got hurt, do you?"

Max's frown deepened to a scowl. "That would be just typical of him," she said. "He probably did something stupid and got himself caught."

Logan raised his eyebrows, and Max sighed. "Okay, so he's not exactly stupid..." Her scowl vanished, to be replaced by the same concerned look she had been wearing earlier. "Are you sure he isn't at the Art Gallery anymore? Maybe he found another priceless Picasso and got delayed, or something."

"One hundred percent sure, Max." Logan said, shaking his head. "I even checked the bathrooms. Can you believe they install security cameras in the bathrooms?"

Max didn't seem to hear him. She had positioned herself on the large glass window at the far side of the Command Center. It was covered in a fine layer of dust, and had a few cracks here and there, but nevertheless, it gave her a clear view of the opening of the drained canal that led outside TC. No one knew about it except for those who resided in Terminal City.

Her enhanced vision kicked in, zeroing on the aperture of the canal. '_Where are you Alec?' _she asked in her thoughts, hoping that he would soon emerge from the duct, all cocky and smiling. She watched for a few more minutes before turning on her heel, grabbing her jacket, and exiting TC.

* * *

"Wake up, 494." A voice commanded, sending a stinging slap across his face. Alec's eyes snapped open, his ears ringing from the slap. Ames White stood in front of him, his dull gray business suit splashing the only color on the bare white walls of wherever room he was in. Alec tried to move, but found that he was strapped tightly on an examination table. He was still fully clothed. Although his leather jacket, and boots were missing. '_Great, he probably took my 9mm as well.' _He thought as he could not feel the bulk of his trusty gun on the waistband of his jeans. Max may not have taken a liking to artillery such as guns, but Alec found their company strangely soothing.

"Where am I?" he had to ask.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that, 494." White said. "Might you find a way to communicate with your friends at Terminal City and risk exposure for me and my agency."

"Wise choice," Alec said sarcastically. "How the hell can I communicate with them if I can't even move?"

"Oh you will move, 494." White replied, a cynical smile spreading across his face. "Well, maybe not exactly move. More like – writhe in agony."

"Ah yes, the famous evil villain sayings." Alec drawled. "I have a feeling you've been watching too many cartoons, White."

"That's not all you'll be feeling," White said, withdrawing a syringe from his coat pocket. Alec could see pale yellow liquid filling the translucent cylinder. Alec suppressed the urge to cringe. He never liked needles. It reminded him too much of Manticore, and how they would dissect defected X5s. As if reading his mind, White said: "Hate needles, 494?" he asked, and without waiting for an answer, jabbed the syringe into Alec's arm.

A few seconds later, Alec felt himself weaken, until he can barely wriggle his fingers, giving the evidence that White had injected him with some kind of narcotic. The X5's system was immune to most drugs, and White's sedative must've been something really powerful to drain Alec's energy so quickly.

"Is this your means of torture?" Alec asked. "You're slacking Ames. It doesn't hurt."

To his surprise, White smiled. "Just wait." Was all he said. "Five, four, three, two, one."

Nothing happened at first, then he felt it. It started at his arm, where he was injected. A burning sensation flooded through his arm, and it swiftly spread all throughout his body, making him feel as if he was on fire. He tilted his head to the right to catch a glimpse of his arm. It was slowly reddening. Alec clenched his teeth to keep from screaming. He certainly would not give White that satisfaction.

"Now, that you're under the proper amount of torture. I have a few questions to ask you," White said, walking back and forth on Alec's left side in a leisurely pace. "How do you enter and exit Terminal City undetected?"

"I fly," Alec answered through gritted teeth. He was not going to betray his own, and he was most especially not going to betray Max. "Apparently, I have bird DNA."

"How do you enter and exit Terminal City?" White repeated, in the same calm voice. As if he had all the time in the world. Which, Alec realized, he most probably did.

* * *

Twenty minutes had passed since Max began her search, and she hadn't found a single hint of where Alec might be. She had circled the Art Gallery's perimeters, and the vacant buildings that subsisted close to it. Not that she was surprised. Alec was one of the X5s that were specifically trained for stealth and assassinations, so it was reasonably unlikely that he would leave proofs of his theft.

She sighed as pushed open the door to the last apartment building on the block. The interior was worse than the outer surface of the building. It was worse in a way that was extremely filthy. It was obvious that it hadn't been used for years, but once she had furthered her walk inside, the temperature increased slightly, giving the evidence that someone was there earlier. '_Jackpot.' _Max thought triumphantly, nudging the worn-out carpet with a boot-clad foot. Tire tracks were visibly imprinted on it.

She hurried out of the apartment and hopped onto her bike. The tracks led her to an alleyway that was empty save for a bright green motorcycle that was lying on its side, a bullet hole clearly noticeable on the front tire. "Damn it, Alec. What have you gotten yourself into now?" she asked into the silence, a worried look on her face.

* * *

"Haven't you realized that I won't be telling you anything at _all_?" Alec asked, after White's third question: 'How many X5s are there in Terminal City?' The sedative, or whatever it was had long since receded, and his skin had returned to its normal color. However, White had gotten a sudden craving for knives, and had taken a fancy in cutting elongated lines across his chest. If it was possible, it hurt even more than the narcotic. A pool of blood had gathered around his upper torso, painting the examination table in red.

"No," White answered simply, twirling the bloodied knife in between his fingers. Alec briefly wondered if White had brought him here to interrogate through torture, or to merely take entertainment in his suffering.

"How long are you keeping me alive?"

"As long as possible, 494." White said, wiping the blade clean with Alec's ripped black t-shirt.

"I'm bleeding to death here," Alec protested. "I won't be alive for 'as long as possible.'"

"Shallow incisions won't make you bleed to death," White said, withdrawing his arm that held the knife and throwing it with much force across the room. It landed in a way that a dart would at the white wall.

Alec rolled his eyes. "I guess we're done with the 'knives' category. What's next? Electrocution?"

White smiled. "You read my mind, 494. But I'm going to take a break for a while. I have some business to attend to at the Conclave."

"Oh you mean, the 'killing people for bloody sacrifices' business." Alec said in a mocking voice. That earned him another slap across the face.

"You should be happy that I'm giving your body a chance to recuperate," White said, a maniacal gleam in his steel-gray eyes. It matched his suit perfectly. "Think about the questions I asked you before. Maybe, when we start with electrocution, you'll be ready enough to answer them." And without a backward glance, White left the room.

Around an hour had passed since White had left him, and Alec was starting to become numb all over. His compulsory wounds were starting to heal, but only barely. Most of the cuts were still bleeding. Whatever White meant by 'shallow' incisions.

His thoughts once again drifted to Max for the umpteenth time that day, and he wondered if she even knew that he was being imprisoned, interrogated, and tormented by White. If there was a rescue team on the way. If he was going to see her again before he fucking bled to death. Because he sure as well was not going to break under White's torture and spill all the answers the Familiar was looking for. _'I'll take one for the team, then.' _He thought, smiling grimly at the statement that the soldiers who were going to sacrifice their selves for the sake of the mission. They used to say that to their unit mates, and it was regarded as an act of common sense, and not as a deed of heroism.

The smooth hum of a car engine could be heard from the bottom of wherever building he was in, This sound signaled the fact that White had arrived. A door slammed, and it wasn't too long until Alec heard footsteps treading through tiled flooring. He inclined his head a few inches to see the door to the 'torture chamber' open. White strode in, an unpleasant look on his face. Alec had a feeling that White's so-called 'business' with the Conclave did not go so well. This granted him with nothing good. An angry White equaled excruciating pain for Alec.

Sure enough, White pulled out a shock prod from underneath the examination table. '_I wonder what else he keeps under there,' _Alec thought dismally. He eyed the prod in disdain. Those tasers could send more than a few volts of electricity into his body. And with the number of cuts he was already sporting...

White switched it on, and a blue current of electricity danced up in down in front of Alec's eyes. White gave him a hard poke on the chest, sending charges of electricity surging through his body, leaving him in a fit of uncontrollable spasms. Alec bit his lip to keep from screaming. But he was unable to suppress the gasps of pain the fled his mouth.

"You didn't even ask me a question yet," Alec managed to bite out through gritted teeth, as he struggled to breath. That electric shock would've knocked an ordinary human unconscious – but then, Alec was anything but ordinary.

White feigned an innocent look. "Oh, I'm sorry. That seemed to slip my mind." He paused, twirling the shock prod between his fingers, just as he did with the knife a few hours ago. "But like you said earlier, 494. You won't be answering any of my questions because of your 'loyalty' to 452. So, I'm simply going to make you suffer until _she _comes to rescue you." He spat the word 'she' out with a tone of disgust that made Alec want to hit him.

"So, I'm bait?"

"Yes," White's reply was accompanied by another hard nudge on his ribs, transporting a wave of piercing electricity from the taser to his body. This time, he couldn't hold back the screams that escaped his lips.

An ugly smile materialized on White's face, and he pulled out Alec's very own 9mm. "Good night, 494." The familiar said scathingly as he cocked the gun.

"I thought I was gonna be bait," Alec asked in between large gulps of oxygen. He raised panicked eyes to White, trying to regain his composure. He didn't want to die yet. Not when he had a chance with – her.

Desperate but determined hazel-green eyes met merciless stormy gray ones. To Alec's surprise, White lowered the gun. But only by a few inches. "You love her," White said, distastefully, a scornful look on his face.

Alec didn't even blink. He held White's gaze unwaveringly. And admitted the pathetic truth out loud for the first time since he had realized it. "Yeah. Yeah I do." '_Funny how I suddenly regard my worst enemy as my confidant,' _Alec thought, feeling oddly disturbed. It was _weird. _Out of all the friends Alec had, White was the first to know. '_What kind of sick, sad world do I live in?_' he thought, revolted.

"It's too bad that I don't give a shit about love," White said, lifting the gun again, and laying a finger on the trigger. "But like I said before. You're bait for 452. And since you 'love' her. We're going to wait for her to arrive, then I'll let you see her suffer." He then pulled the trigger, releasing a barrage of bullets. One landed on Alec's arm, and another on his lower torso.

"Bastard," Alec spat, trying to keep his voice calm, despite the pain that was searing his arm and torso.

"Yeah, I get that a lot." White said with a casual shrug. He tilted his head to one side, surveying the state his hostage was currently in. Blood was seeping from several of Alec's wounds, and every now and then, his body would surge into a fit of spasms. An aftershock of the electrocution. "Red seems to be becoming my favorite color." White said in that conversational tone that would usually be followed by a 'So, what's your favorite color?' question.

"Good," Alec growled. "Because you'll be spending the eternity of your afterlife burning in hell."

White merely sneered at him. "So will you, 494. If you can remember. You were built to be an assassin. A killer. How many innocent necks have you snapped, 494?" he asked, and without waiting for an answer. White stabbed him again with the taser, leaving the transgenic unconscious.

"Third time's the charm," White said with a mordant grin.

* * *

'_Finally,' _Max thought with a sigh of relief as she caught sight of a payphone. Braking her bike to a stop, she climbed out of her Ninja and pulled out a few quarters from her pants pocket, and dialed Logan's number. She would've used her mobile phone, but there were suspicions that it was being tapped by outside enemies – like Ames White, or the NSA.

"Logan? It's Max," she said into the receiver, glancing around cautiously for any sign of the city's hover drones. "Listen, I just found Alec's bike, and the situation does not look good. There wasn't any blood, so he's obviously still alive." Max paused as Logan volunteered to try to pinpoint Alec's location on his computer. "Thanks. Page me as soon as you find something." She plunked the receiver back to its cradle and drove off into the apartment building that she had found Alec's tracks. '_I'll lay low here for a while until Logan pages me,' _she thought, dragging a wooden stool over to the window.

She was just getting comfortable when a tarnished black car streaked out from the curve down the street. Frowning, Max ducked to avoid being seen. '_I know that car,' _she thought as it raced past her. She momentarily caught a glimpse of the driver who was talking on a cell phone. And with a burst of incensed recognition, the loathed name popped into her head: '_White.' _. He was heading to a building painted all over with a sickening brown color.

By the time White's car had disappeared into the building's garage, Max was seeing red.

Max blurred over the payphone she had used earlier, not caring if someone saw her. Knowing White, Alec's life was probably hanging on a thread. A very fine piece of thread at that. It wouldn't be too long until White pulled out his scissors and cut it off.

"Logan, White's got Alec." She said breathlessly. "It's a few blocks from the Art Gallery. A seven-story building. 12th street. Send back-up. I'm going in." And barely hearing Logan's 'be carefuls', she headed off to the building that presently serving as Alec's prison.

Two burly guards were seated behind a desk on the entrance part of the building. Max had been careful to check if their were any security cameras before knocking the two guards unconscious. The entrance hallway was covered in navy blue wallpaper that were tattered in several places. The floor was neatly tiled with gray flooring that was almost like cement. But Max wasn't thinking about interior decorating at the moment...

There were only two doors on the ground floor, and they opened to bathrooms for either sex. There was an elevator at the end of the hall, but she had decided against it. Using the elevator would alert her presence in the building. So she took the slower route: the staircase.

The second floor was obviously a cafeteria or some small restaurant some few years ago. Upturned tables and chairs were scattered all around the room. The ground was littered with layers of dust, plastic plates and utensils, and a few candy wrappers. Max blinked at it absent-mindedly and hurried up the stairs to the third floor.

A long windowless corridor stretched out in front of her. It was dim, with only a light bulb to share a pale beam of light. Max's shadow followed her as she crept stealthily through the hallway. She reached the first door, and as quietly as possible, she opened it. It was a storage room, cluttered with boxes and crates. She shut the door noiselessly and went on to the next door. Just as she laid a hand on the rusty knob, the distinctive sound of a gunshot rang through the night.

Max's eyes widened in fear. "Alec..." she whispered, and without another thought she kicked the door open as hard as she could. It slammed loudly, and she was greeted with the barrel of a gun.

"So nice of you to join our little party, 452." White said with an ugly grin, and holding her at gunpoint, he beckoned for her to enter the room. Max obliged and the first thing she saw was Alec. Alec and blood. Her heart dropped to the floor. He was not moving, nor breathing...

"Is – is he dead?" Max asked, drawing in a shaky breath. Out of the many incisions, and gunshots that covered Alec's body in blood, only his face remained unscathed. And it was almost like seeing Ben all over again.

"Fortunately, yes. Listening to him was getting so tedious," White said, and added in a mock falsetto. "Yeah, I love her – don't let me die."

Max froze.

"And now," White drawled. "You can join him in hell."

Burning with rage, Max lunged.

* * *

When he woke up, he was inside a large, spacious, vacant room that was bathed in nothing but white. He looked down on himself, and saw that he was dressed in nothing but his black jeans. The wounds that White had inflicted upon him were still there, but they were not bleeding. They glowed a faint silver, under the bright lights of the room.

He looked around in mild confusion. Where was he? It looked a bit like White's 'torture chamber', but it exuded a comforting kind of warmth that calmed him. A sudden thought, struck him. Was he dead? He didn't know the answer to that question...he only remembered what White said to him: 'You were built to be an assassin. A killer. How many necks have you snapped, 494?'

Was this hell? He glanced around, once more. It certainly didn't look like hell...nor feel like hell. Something glimmered at the far end of the room, and briefly heard a faint rustle of – wings?

He blinked, and started towards the sound. He found it surprisingly easy to move. He almost felt like he was floating. Like he was sliding through warm ice. He neared the sound, and saw the curving outline of a woman. A beautiful woman dressed in long, flowing white robes that matched the color of the room. He squinted, determined to get a closer look at her face...and was met by a pair of cinnamon-colored eyes...

"Alec?" a concerned voice asked, and the white room vanished in an instant. The soothing warmth was gone. To be replaced by a burning sensation of pain. 'This is it,' Alec thought, dazedly. 'I'm dying. I'm going to hell.'

A familiar face met his gaze, but he could barely see it clearly. His vision was blurred, and his mind could only focus on the pain that he was feeling. The memory of the calming white room, clung in the back of his head. The familiar face called out his name again, and Alec blinked trying to clear his vision. His head was spinning, and he was starting to lose consciousness, and just before he slipped into oblivion, he whispered in a scarcely audible voice. "I always thought I'd see an angel before I died..."

And he shut his eyes, the pain slowly disappearing.

* * *

Max paced the small passageway outside Terminal City's Medicinal Bay. Transgenics and transhumans who excelled in Field Med back at Manticore, were currently hard at work inside, and had requested Max to wait outside as they did their job. Half an hour had passed since Max and her back-up team (Mole, and two X5s) had brought Alec back to Terminal City. They had taken him straight to Med Bay.

Ice gripped Max's heart as she recalled the state Alec was in. Leila, TC's best doctor had told her earlier that there was a chance that Alec may not make it. He had lost a lot of blood, and had gone into a coma. But Max had insisted that they try their past. She didn't do what she did for nothing.

For so many years, she had refrained herself from killing. But that abstinence had ended that night. The second White had said: 'he's dead,' Max disbelieved him. And one more glance at Alec's comatose figure had released the animal inside her. 452 had escaped her cage.

She remembered what she had said to Joshua that night at Jam Pony. Joshua was on the verge of breaking White in half, and Max knew that the Familiar would've been dead if it wasn't for her. 'I know he deserves to die Joshua. But if you kill him now, the only thing people will remember about today is how some transgenic killed a human being in cold blood...and they'll never stop hunting us.'

But Max had learned to accept the fact that they were not human. Hell, she was even proud of it. But some part of her – that emotional part of her was alarmed of the fact that someone's blood lay in her hands. And she knew the one reason why she killed White.

'_Only, it might be too late.' _She thought miserably, glancing at the clinic's closed door for the thousandth time.

She recalled what Alec had said to her earlier, when he was struggling to regain consciousness. '_I always thought I'd see an angel before I died._' And Max had shook his shoulders, willing him to wake up, and shouting in his ear: '_You're not going to die, Alec. Wake up! Wake the hell up!' _Mole had dragged her away from him, and had restrained her as two other X5s carried Alec out of the building.

It was only then, that Max had whispered to herself. '_My past is just as dark as yours, Alec. That doesn't make me an angel...Probably a dark angel.' _

At that same moment, the Med Bay's entrance door sprang open. An exhausted but smiling Leila emerged from the clinic and Max waited with bated breath on what their Head Doctor had to say about TC's top man. "Max," she breathed happily. "He's going to be okay."

His sleeping figure was the first thing that Max saw the second she entered Terminal City's make-shift clinic. Luke and a few transhumans who were busily bustling around, stopped what they were doing when Max came in. They nodded respectfully at her, and went out of the room.

Dawn was breaking, and rays of yellow and gold were slipping through the half-open window on the far side of the clinic. Max realized that they had spent most of the night out. She approached his bed cautiously, afraid that he might wake to the slightest of movements. But Max knew that unless there was a threat, Alec slept like a log.

A metal-backed chair stood on his bedside, and Max settled herself comfortably on it, watching in tranquil fascination at Alec's inert form. "Did you mean what you said, Alec?" she asked him softly, running her hands through his tangled dark blonde hair. To her astonishment, it was incredibly silky. She had always thought that it was roughly-textured, by the way it spiked up at times. "Do you really love me?"

She waited a few minutes, as if expecting him to answer. But of course, he didn't. "It's weird," she sustained, refusing to acknowledge the fact that it was pointless talking to an unconscious person. "All these years, I thought that Logan was the one for me." She paused, glancing at the door. She thought she heard something. But the door remained closed and still.

"But then you came along," she continued, a smile gracing her face. "You wormed your way into my life, making things difficult for me. Taunting me, following me around, ruining things for me..." she sobered, flecks of pain tingeing her chocolate-brown eyes. "I never hated you, Alec. But looking at you brings back many painful memories...memories of Ben." A tear trickled down her face. "But slowly, you started to become your own person. You have contributed a lot to Terminal City, going on heists, finding new black market deals...eventually, I began to feel comfortable around you. You became someone I could count on, someone I _trust..._a friend... Or maybe something more than that..."

Alec stirred, but did not wake up. He was so beautiful. Surely, no one was allowed to be that beautiful. _'If angels do exist,' _Max thought contemplatively. '_Then they would look like Alec.'_

THE END

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